


Crashing

by lipservice (thescariestadverbs)



Category: The Killing
Genre: F/M, Mourning, bullet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-22
Updated: 2013-07-22
Packaged: 2017-12-21 00:39:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/893766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thescariestadverbs/pseuds/lipservice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spoilers for episode 9</p><p>"It’s amazing how someone’s entire world can shatter and the rest of the world continues on, unmarked and unscathed."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crashing

_if ever your world starts crashing down_  
 _whenever your world starts crashing down_  
 _whenever your world starts crashing down_  
 _that's where you'll find me_  
\- One Republic - All Fall Down

She hadn’t seen him in a week. He’d been suspended for punching Reddick and with the case still open... She hadn’t seen him in a week. She unlocks the door to his apartment and steps in quietly, “Holder?” she calls out. The blinds are drawn, the lights are out. It’s dark and stagnant. There is food rotting on the counter.

“Holder?” she calls out again, a little more forcefully. 

Still no answer. She finds him in the bedroom, sitting on the bed. He doesn’t look like he’s moved in a week. His shirt is dirty, his eyes are red and wide, he hasn’t shaved. His gun is lying on the bed beside him. He looks at her emotionlessly, like a ghost, and for a moment she is scared he doesn’t see her. He shakes his head for a second, takes a drag from his cigarette and says, “sup, Linden?” but it doesn’t have his usual tone. He sounds small, like a child. 

It’s almost unbearable to see him like this. She inhales sharply and bites her lip. She sits beside him tentatively and he hands her the pack of cigarettes. She shouldn’t but she pulls one out anyway and lights it. They sit like this for the better part of an hour without speaking. He’s somewhere else, in his head, and she’s at a loss for words.

She was never good at comforting, at being there for people. It’s hard. 

She pats his shoulder awkwardly, “get ready,” she says softly, “we have to go.” She didn’t want to rush him, but the case is still open and she has to get back to work. She glances over at the broken shell beside her, “it’s okay, come on.” 

He doesn’t bother to shower or change, just pulls his hoodie over his head. She doesn’t complain. If there is one thing she understands, it’s what it feels like to give up on holding it all together. 

It’s sunny out, too sunny out, for this. She squints her eyes as she navigates the streets of Seattle. The city is buzzing with life. It’s amazing how someone’s entire world can shatter and the rest of the world continues on, unmarked and unscathed. It’s not fair. In a city known for raining all the time it shouldn’t be this sunny. 

They travel without conversation. He’s leaning his head against the window watching the other cars drive by, watching the pedestrians on the street. The cool glass is less than comforting. He’s grateful for the silence, grateful for her presence. He wonders, briefly, where they are going. Not that it matters. After Bullet... how could anything?

She was just a kid. She did her best, with what she knew anyway. She had trusted him and he’d let her down. Like he’d let his sister down, his nephew. Linden. Like he let everyone down. He was no better than he’d been just a few short years ago. A no good junkie begging for a fix. He was supposed to teach her that there was more to life, she could make something of herself. Instead, he got her killed.

The graveyard is empty. Probably for the best, Linden thinks to herself as she parks the car. Holder glances over at her sharply. Any protest dies on his tongue when he sees her face, she’s almost as broken up over this as he is. He’s buried himself in darkness, she’s buried herself in work. 

They stand side by side in front of it. The gravestone is simple, plain, just a name and a date. There are no flowers, no cards. Nothing to commemorate the life lost so young. The sun beats down on their backs, almost mocking the gravity of the moment. She clears her throat, “her parents refused to claim the body. They said their daughter died a long time ago. They let the city bury her.” 

“It’s not your fault,” she whispers. 

Had he been anyone else he might have found it hard to believe that her parents abandoned her but he knew better. Parents abandon their kids all the time. Parents fail their kids all the time. Look at Kallie, her mom couldn’t even let her sleep on the couch. He pulls a knife from his pocket and kneels in the soft dirt on the grave.

Linden doesn’t stop him, she just watches intently as he scratches away at the gravestone. It takes a few minutes. He’s deliberate, scraping away the cement. His knife dulls as he goes but he doesn’t stop. When he steps back she can see it. It’s not centered, or straight. The letters are all different sizes. Above her named he scratched ‘Bullet’ into the stone. 

“She deserved better,” he says softly, his normal banter forgotten in the severity of the moment. Deserved better than him, than her parents, her friends. Better than a city burial. Better than the hand she’d been dealt. Linden nods. 

He reaches over and takes her hand. She squeezes reassuringly. For a moment, the case is forgotten. They stand, linked, over the grave of a street kid they’ll never forget. The truth is, neither of them had ever been good at dealing. It had been proven time and time again, and this was no different. 

Surprisingly, it’s Holder that turns away first. He tugs at Linden’s hand and says, “we gotta get him. We gotta get the guy who did this.” 

He’s done mourning, he realizes. He’s done feeling sorry for himself. He’s done hiding in his dirty apartment. He’s ready. He’s ready to prove to Bullet that he’s more than some sorry junkie, even if its too late to show her. He’s going to make sure the guy who did this pays for what he’s done. 

He doesn’t let go of her hand as they walk back to the car. 

The first thing he does when he gets back to the apartment is take a shower. He scrubs his skin raw, cleaning away the guilt and self-pity. He shaves for the first time in two weeks. He puts on a shirt and tie. He holsters his gun and straps it to his side. 

When he comes out of the room the windows are open, the kitchen is clean and Linden is sitting on the couch. She stands up when she sees him, she tries to smile. She’s the only person who sees him, who’s ever really seen him. He’d tried so hard to be something he wasn’t with Caroline. He’d pretended to be something he wasn’t. 

He never had to with Linden. And even if he had, she’d have seen right through it. It’s like he’s been treading water his whole life and he’s finally learning how to swim, how to move forward. He crosses the room deliberately until he reaches her. She’s still staring at him, eyes dark and serious. 

He doesn’t pause, doesn’t second guess it. He pulls her close and kisses her. It’s a gentle, tender kiss. It’s not demanding or rough. She tastes like coffee and cigarettes and cinnamon. She tastes like home. For the first time in his life, he truly knows what it’s like to have a purpose, to have a reason. She’s brought him back, again. She’s everything.

They’ll solve this case. 

They’ll honor Bullet. 

He’ll be the best he can, he’ll stand up and he’ll do the right thing. He’ll prove himself to the world, he’ll prove himself to Sarah, to his sister. He’ll do it for Bullet. He’ll find a way to make this right.


End file.
